


Try, Try Again

by LoneSilverWolf



Category: RWBY
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Constructive Criticism Welcome, F/M, Flames will be deleted, My first fic, Time Travel, Undecided Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28121868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoneSilverWolf/pseuds/LoneSilverWolf
Summary: Salem's dead, but the world is ending. Jaune is a wanderer in a ruined world. One day he gets an opportunity to go back and save the world. Alas, things never go as planned. Time Travel AU!
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Try, Try Again

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this on my FanFiction profile for the longest time, and just realized I don't have it here. I thought I did. Maybe it didn't take? I forgot? Oh well, it's here now.  
> My first (published) fic, so let me know how you feel. 
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcome, flames will be disregarded and disposed of.

Death. Destruction. Ruin. Those were the words anybody would describe the world of Remnant right now. Hopeless, distraught, terrified are also good words to describe the populace. Or what was left of them. It all started when Cinder enacted her plan to topple the Four Kingdoms for her ‘Master,’ Salem. After many years of combat, struggle, and sacrifice; she was defeated. This time is called the Collapse, which is essentially what transpired. Now the rest of humanity has been reduced to a sliver of what it was. The Hunstman Academies destroyed, armies devastated, entire cities leveled, connections and ties between what was left of the nations shattered beyond repair. Those that remained tried to rebuild, try being the keyword. After the Fall of Vale, or any Kingdom really, the residents tried to rebuild, but the damage to the natural defenses was too much to repair and the negative energy that came with those who entered the cities only served to attract more Grimm. 

Some distance away from what’s left of Vale lies a little village called the Edge. Calling it a village is actually generous, it’s more of an outpost or a shantytown really. It’s in the most defensible location they could find, nestled between a pair of mountains. A wall made of stone and steel ran around the perimeter of the settlement with a single gated door, accessible only by a wooden bridge over a moat. Before one could even reach the moat, they had to travel a thin path to avoid the traps, pitfalls, and mines. The crude defenses are slightly aided by an old tank sitting before the door that was decommissioned some time ago, but an enterprising mechanic managed to ‘recommission’ it. Inside the wall is where those ‘lucky’ enough to survive the war reside. The ramshackle of steel and wood houses left little show of skill or comfort. Normally, one would be happy that people of all different races and ages live without fighting each other. In this instance however, where the only other options are coexist or die, is it truly peace? 

A large building, larger than what passes as living quarters, is the collective dining/meeting center. Where resources are scarce, necessities such as food, medicine, and other supplies are allocated to specific locations for proper protection, preservation, preparation, and distribution. Inside said building sits a man, waiting patiently for his evening meal. His scraggly beard hasn’t been trimmed in months, his clothes are worn and dirtied, a thick traveling cloak draped over his shoulders, and he looked every bit of the title he carried: the Wanderer. His name has been lost, but he’s known as Stryder: the most dangerous person of the Edge if not the continent. Perhaps, some have whispered, the world. 

He was avoided by much of the populace, not that he minded or blamed them. They’re fearful of what he has been said to do and of his feats in the Wild. There are occasional parties that go into the Wild or the various ruins to locate and retrieve provisions, of which he escorted nearly all of them. He also traveled quite often, usually to the other settlements or wandering the Wilds, returning only for a short time. Finding someone with the ability to survive the Wilds was difficult. Someone who could defend themselves - let alone defend others - from the Grimm was an even harder find.  
His tenacity, skill, strength, knowledge, flexibility, foresight, luck, and considerable Aura made him the best around. There has yet to be a Grimm that has bested him, and his mere presence seemed to drive many away. Aura is another rarity in this time. Most Huntsmen and those in-training died in the Collapse, and took many teachings with them. The few that survived have taken to pass their knowledge to the next generation in whatever way they can, or defend what’s left to their dying breath. 

The Wanderer spoke softly, but never unkindly or rudely. He didn’t take any position of official leadership, but it’s undeniable that he carries more authority than anyone else in these troubled times. He holds no prejudice against the Faunus people, despite the crimes the White Fang committed, knowing that the Fang was manipulated and the rest were casualties of the war. He holds wisdom beyond what is expected, and has been seen consoling and aiding others regularly. He may be considered old in his mid to late 60s, especially in a world where people died young, but he is one of the rare few who remember the time before the Collapse. Most that live today are merely descendants of the survivors. He never speaks of his past, especially the time during the Collapse. He has been a major factor in the continued survival of the people: maintaining order, judging crimes fairly, protecting the caravans, teaching the next generation all he knows. If it weren’t for him, there would probably be no Edge. 

Into the building an older man walked. He wore long grey robes topped with a pointed grey hat, his grey beard and grey hair were long on his head, his face and hands were old and etched with age, his grey eyes under his bushy grey eyebrows spoke of experience and wisdom. A long, wooden walking stick with a gnarled, twisted head was the only item he carried. A good word to describe him would be ancient, but Stryder knew better than to judge by appearance. The traveler was receiving some odd, some hostile looks from the other patrons. Trust is hard to come by, and this person is an unknown to them. The newcomer’s eyes scanned the room twice until they landed on the Wanderer. As quick as he could, he made his way over to where the warrior sat.

“Mind if I join you?” was politely asked before seating himself. Stryder didn’t refuse him. He knew the old man wanted something, and if he wanted trouble then he wouldn’t be disappointed. The curious looks soon turned confused at the old man seating himself at a dangerous man’s table.

The two sat in silence for a time: Stryder with his characteristic quiet and the other with a hopeful and happy smile, like he found a long lost friend. There were attempts to restart conversations, but they all fell short at the unusual spectacle in front of them.

Finally, the older man spoke, “How are you this wonderful day, friend?”

“Fine enough I suppose. You?”

“Splendid, just splendid. Judging by the clouds we have a chance of rain tonight. That will do some good for the crops considering the warm days we’ve been having. Hasn’t been this warm this early in the season for a long time. This may mean a long and hot summer. It will be a good time for strengthening the defenses though.”

A slow nod was all was given from the warrior.

“Oh! Forgive me, forgive me, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey.”

“They call me Stryder. To what do I owe this meeting, Gandalf?” Stryder asked, getting down to business.

“I have a plan. A dangerous, risky, and uncertain one, but it will be well worth it. It will take time, patience, skill, and no small amount of luck for it to succeed. I will not lie it will be a gamble, but if it succeeds, it will be of immeasurable benefit of the people of Remnant.”

“An ambitious venture you’re making.” Stryder complimented.

“One might call it a foolish endeavor for even thinking it. In the end, it will minimize or eliminate the damage done by Cinder.”

A shudder ran through those gathered and the temperature dropped several degrees. It’s considered taboo to speak of those who brought about the Collapse, even though many weren’t even born at the time. This was another thing that separated Stryder from the rest; he has no reservations speaking their very names, foregoing their ‘softer’ titles altogether.

“Cinder fancied herself to be the Queen on the board, but Salem was the one directing the moves. She herself was the King on her side, and the rest were just chess pieces. Each had their uses, but were ultimately expendable.” Wanderer countered.

“Yes. Humanities enemies, though dispensable, were still a threat. Remember the damage that Dr. Watt caused with one program, or those who fell to Tyrian’s sting, a-” he was cut off by Stryder.

“I know all too well what they were capable of.” An edge crept into Stryder’s voice for a moment before returning to his natural calm. 

“You want to reverse the effects of the Collapse, but how? We’re in a state worse than the Dark Ages. Restoring the world will take the efforts of the whole world and the time, effort, materials, and manpower to rebuild to a fragment of what we used to be. The CCT towers have all been destroyed, so communications are incredibly difficult locally and no one has had word of anyone in the other Kingdoms in over a decade. Resources are scarce as it is, how are you planning on providing those? The Schnee Dust mines were all destroyed, and those that they didn’t own were lost to us. What little Dust that remains is regulated to emergency generators and village defenses. Most everything is Dust powered, and despite the efforts to find an alternative fuel, there are no working models available since the Fall of Atlas. 

“We can hunt and grow food, we’ve done it for years. There may be some salvageable farms in the Ruins of Vale that we could use, but how will we tend to them? They will need people there to maintain them, and the Edge is barely holding on as it is. Manpower? All those here and the neighboring villages are all that we could gather from, well anywhere really, even the roving bandit clans smart enough to join and we only number into a few hundred. Those that know about the necessary things to rebuild are either too old or dead. The knowledge needed for large scale projects was in one of the Great Libraries, and Salem made sure that those were destroyed too. We will need to start from the ground up for that. 

“Government will need to be reinstalled, and as good of a job the Mayors have done keeping a semblance of order, they can hardly stand each other as it is. A consistent direction is needed and are all trying to go their own ways of leadership. Let’s not forget our biggest enemies now: the Grimm. Even with Salem gone, the Grimm remain a problem. They won’t stand aside as we rebuild ourselves. As valiant as the defenders can be, they will fall if the Grimm decide to mount a serious assault. They’re soulless, not brainless. 

“Even if things did go smoothly, it will take centuries. I don’t know about you, but I don’t see myself living that long. So much can change in a few months, let alone a decade. We may not fight openly now, but the wounds borne by the Humans and Faunus from the pointless race wars still exist. It may take just one too many words and we could be at war again and undo everything. I try to teach all I can that we are all the same underneath, but most refuse to listen. I don’t see any way to remove the mark that Salem has made on the world, only to rebuild what we can.”

“It’s as you say. I have many things in line, but I’m in need of a more specific kind of help. For that I wish to enlist the aid of Beacon’s finest Huntsmen.” Gandalf said without a hint of doubt and looking Stryder straight in the eye.

A hush fell over the crowd. It quickly gave way to murmurs. A Huntsman? One of the finest warriors in the world? From Beacon? They were the greatest threat to the Grimm and peacekeepers before the Collapse, but where did this old man think that he was going to find one? Did the Wanderer know where to find one?

Stryder could only stare at Gandalf after his statement. Following a long moment he only closed his eyes and shook his head ruefully. Then, a small smile formed on his face. A soft snicker escaped his throat. Then a chuckle, silencing the crowd yet again. He broke into a soft laughter, which only grew louder. Stryder laughed so hard he had tears falling down his face. He was laughing like Gandalf had told the world’s funniest joke. It was hurting his sides and lungs so much he had to clutch them. He started rocking back and forth uncontrollably; if he wasn’t sitting down he would’ve fallen over. 

After a few minutes he finally started coughing. Gaining some self-control, he leaned over the side of the table to cough like he had a bad cold. After a few moments of coughing he went right back to howling, banging his fist on the table as he did. A few more minutes passed before he had to stop to catch his breath, which took a while since he would try to go back to laughter again. 

Finally catching his breath and gaining enough self-control he pulled himself up to speak to Gandalf again, who was the only one in the immediate vicinity unaffected by this outburst. The others have never heard the Wanderer give more than a polite chuckle, it was honestly scaring them. Stryder looked Gandalf dead in the eye, all merriment gone and his voice took a rare, serious, very angry tone.

“Beacon’s Finest. Let me tell you something about Beacon’s Finest: they’re not here. You missed them. Come back about 50 years ago, and you might find a few. But they weren’t the finest. The finest were all fighting Salem, even if they didn’t know it. I can’t tell you how many died at the end not knowing who their real enemy was. Those that did know and could still fight were all there the day she fell. Not one of them walked away from that battle either. 

“Let me tell you a bit on what you missed. Team SSSN from Minstral, some of the coolest dudes out there. All the guys wanted to be them and all the ladies wanted to date them. Team NDGO of Vacuo, same story as Team SSSN only in reverse as they’re ladies. Team FNKI from Atlas, plenty weird at first but they knew how to work it and threw some killer parties. Team ABRN from- Oh, but I’m getting off course! You wanted Beacon’s finest, not just another amazing team from another country. OK, here we go…”

Pulling out a smooth stone from his pocket, with the Nordic runes of Warrior and Protection engraved on the surface, he set it on the table. “Nora Valkyrie, Electric Bomber of Team JNPR. She swung a giant hammer, launched grenades, terrorized Grimm, and demolished pancakes with a smile. She never let anything get to her. Even after losing her home twice, forced into sheer survival, lost many of her friends, she never lost her famous smile.”

He then pulls out a dagger with a black blade and a red handle and lays it next to the Runestone. “Lie Ren, the Hidden Dragon of Team JNPR. Ironically, also the calm of the storm. The only one who could keep up with Nora, and they were like two peas in a pod despite as different as the sun and moon. He and Nora have been through everything together, and stuck it out through bad and worse. Nora always said they weren’t ‘together-together,’ but the way they held each other at the end said otherwise.”

After taking off his left bracer he rolls up his sleeve, revealing a black ribbon wrapped around his forearm. “Blake Belladona, the Midnight Watcher of Team RWBY. The best spy there was, an avid reader of certain material, and could devour a bowl full of tuna faster than you could pour yourself a drink. She carried the weight of years of mistakes, carrying out the will of the White Fang in their early worse years. She was young, a bit naïve, but genuinely wanted to make a difference for Faunus. When she saw that they were only making things worse, she made the bravest decision and left. She went to Beacon to walk a more difficult road to equality, to repent for her mistakes. All she wanted was a place where people could be who they were without persecution, but the flames that fueled the Fang were also the ones that consumed them.”

A lock of golden hair trapped in resin was shown next. “Yang Xiao Long, the Golden Brawler of Team RWBY. Loud, proud, rambunctious, with puns and insinuations instead of conversation. She may have been an unrepentant flirt and a bit of a hothead, but she knew her worth and wouldn’t let anyone say otherwise. After Raven left her and Summer died, she took on the role of the family matriarch. She took care of Ruby and her friends the best she could, even when she herself needed someone to look out for her. She would’ve made an excellent mother, if her plane wasn’t shot down.”

He pulls out a necklace from under his shirt, revealing the Schnee family emblem. He lays it next to the rest. “Weiss Schnee, the Ice Queen of Team RWBY. Skilled fencer and the best at Dust in any capacity. The name itself is a misnomer, but she never grew out of it. She was an absolute brat in the beginning, spoiled and stuck up being a Schnee, but she quickly grew out of that and became a loyal and dedicated friend. Grew up with a controlling hard-ass father with a minor God-complex and some serious Faunus prejudice, no wonder she went to Beacon to get away from that toxicity. If she had the chance, she would’ve pulled her family’s Dust Company out of the muck that her father had buried it in and made some serious progress in the world. Her own family made sure she wouldn’t have that chance.”

Reaching behind his breastplate, he pulls out an emblem of a rose and sets it in the middle of the others. “Ruby Rose, the Prodigy and leader of Team RWBY. Spunky, cute, innocent, you’d never think of her as a Huntress, underestimate her and pay for it. Got into Beacon two years early out of sheer skill and spunk, and always stood with the best of them. By the way she spun her scythe around you’d think she was the incarnation of death itself. All she wanted to be was a Huntress to help people, like her mother. She often felt out of place, but she always gave it her all. She always looked for the best in others, even if wasn’t there. She was the one who finished Salem at the end, and paid with her life to do it.”

Standing up he sweeps back his travelers cloak, revealing the sword he always carried with him. Unclipping it from his belt, he sets it up on the table and activates the device to transform the sheath into a shield. Pointing to the golden design toward the base he continues, “Phyrra Nikos, the Spartan Warrior of Team JNPR. The best partner anyone could ask for. As capable as she was beautiful. An incredible warrior who was humble and polite to a fault. She may have been 4 time winner of some bigtime Minstralian tournament, but she never let it get to her head. She was lonely, sitting up on that pedestal for so long; all she wanted was a friend. She got her friends, even if they didn’t deserve her. She died for them by trying to stop Cinder during the Fall of Vale.”

“Those were Beacon’s Finest. This is all that is left of them. They gave everything to end something that should never have begun. Your search is in vain, old man.” The Wanderer finally finished, his glare never leaving Gandalf.

“Such a shame. Such wonderful lights, snuffed out before they could properly shine. Their aid would be greatly appreciated.”

“Your condolences mean nothing to the dead.” Stryder growled out before setting the sword to the side of the table and sitting down again.

“What about the last one?” Gandalf enquired with a curious voice.

“Who?” The Wanderer asked with an unspoken warning.

“The Knight of Team JNPR.” Gandalf continued undeterred. “You’ve spoken of all the rest. Surely the leader of such a promising team should be remembered?”

“He’s dead, like the rest of them. You wouldn’t want him; he was just a boy who wanted to play at being a hero. A worthless idiot who shouldn’t have even set foot on that path much less become a leader.” He said shortly. After a pause his voice changed to a heavy, remorseful one. “He made so many stupid mistakes, and all of them cost him dearly but his friends ended up footing the bill. Couldn’t even protect what was important to him. Even Winchester managed to get some sense knocked into him before the end. He’s the one of the last people you’d want.” 

The two passed into another quiet. The other diners, more than happy to keep their distance after the warrior’s angry rant, simply observed in silence. The conversation was fascinating, confusing, and terrifying at the same time. Fascinating because of the very nature of the conversation and some of the history being told, confusing since much of the knowledge was foreign to them, and terrifying due to the range of emotions Stryder was showing and history he never gave voice to. None dared to speak, for fear of what might happen next. They needn’t worry however, the objects of their dread and wonder seemed to forget the rest of the world even existed at the moment.

Finally breaking the quiet, the Wanderer spoke. “Why now? Why didn’t you help sooner? Did you do anything during the Collapse? Did you even care? Didn’t Cinder stealing Amber’s power scream ‘something is wrong’ at you? The sacrilege of the Relics? Salem’s meddling? The Awakening of the Ancient Ones? The Chimera? The Accursed? The Fall of any Kingdom? Salem’s been dead for 40 some years after an 8 year war, and mankind’s been on a decline since. What did it take to finally pull you out of your cottage, Wizard?” spitting out the word Wizard with more than a little venom.

In a regretful voice, the Wizard responded. “We, myself and others, had sworn an oath to not interfere with the world. For hundreds of years we held to that oath, perhaps a little too well. We had hoped that… With the gifts… Perhaps… We were wrong.” 

After a terse nod Stryder probed, “Did it never occur to you that something could go sour down the line? Was there ever a back-up plan, failsafe, countermeasure, or contingency plan of any sort?”

“Sadly, no.” Was the simple answer, not even meeting the warrior’s eyes.

Although not expecting anything else, Stryder was still disappointed.

“That in itself was one of our many mistakes we have made recently. I wish to correct those mistakes.” 

The Wizard received only an eye roll at his statement.

“But as you said, we cannot fix what has been broken. Not in the present at least.”

Hearing this made Stryder’s brows furrow in confusion.

“There is a saying: prevention is better than the cure.”

This only served to heighten the warrior’s suspicion.

“What if Cinder never made her move? What if the Kingdoms never went to war with each other and focused on the true enemy? What if there was someone who could unite them and lead them to action? If you knew then what you know now, what would you change?”

“What are you suggesting?” Stryder asked in an intrigued yet disbelieving voice.

“I believe you know very well what I’m suggesting.” 

“But how?” 

“You’ve seen what Cinder could do with only a part of a Maiden’s power, the strength of the Silver Eyes, and many other things besides. Who says we couldn’t ‘try, try again,’ hm?” Gandalf responds in an almost offering tone.

“I failed my family, my Team, my friends. I couldn’t stop my partner from charging to her death. I could only watch as my best friend bled out in my arms. I-” Gandalf cut him off.

“You were but a boy fighting in a war of Gods and Monsters. Playing a game to which you did not know the rules of. You did very well with what you were given, you all did. If you weren’t there, Ren and Nora wouldn’t have found a family. Phyrra wouldn’t have had the strength to go after Cinder. You gave Ruby the opportunity to finish Salem. All those people of the village wouldn’t have made it to the ship if you weren’t there. You helped Cardin come to his senses and pass with honor. You gave Velvet hope where she had none. You may not have been able to save Weiss, but you surely avenged her and saved many others besides. You stayed behind to help when you could’ve run. You’ve conquered when others succumbed. You may not have been the fastest, strongest, smartest, or greatest, but you have the heart of a true Huntsman. Out of all that have come before, I most certainly would want someone like you to help me.”

Stryder couldn’t come up with a retort to that.

“What I’m about to do is forbidden, for many reasons. I don’t even know if this will work. But I am willing to try. Will you help me Jaune Arc, Leader of Team JNPR?”

For the first time in many years, Jaune was at a loss. He couldn’t help but know that Gandalf was telling him the truth about his offer, yet he still couldn’t believe it. He looked at the mementoes he carried. Each one brought back memories of their respective happiness, hopes, dreams, and pain. Not a day went by that he didn’t think about them, how he could’ve done better, how he should’ve done better. It should’ve been him that didn’t make it, he was the faker and the rest were the real deal. The offer was tempting to say the least, but will he take it? After much self-debate, reminiscing, and remembering the reason he’s held on all these years, he made his choice.

“Even after all these years, I’m still a fool.” He looked at Gandalf with determination and, for the first in a long time, hope.

“Aren’t we all?” Gandalf could only say with a humored chuckle.

~timeskip~

Jaune and Gandalf were standing in a clearing. A large stone circle with foreign writing lay carved into the ground.

“Well, I guess this is it then.”

“I suppose it is.”

“Are we sure this will this work?”

“This has never been done before, so I wouldn’t know. This isn’t something that anyone of my Order has considered doing due to the risks involved.”

Jaune nodded at that, for the two have discussed this project at length over the past few years since their first meeting at the Edge. The warrior extends his hand to the wizard, for what could be the last time.

“Goodbye, Gandalf.”

“Goodbye, Jaune.”

Jaune breaks off the handshake and walks away from the man he’s learned to call a friend. Stepping into the circle the symbols begin to glow. Gandalf begins chanting when Jaune approaches the center, followed closely by Jaune.

The symbols glowed brighter, creating a light easily seen even during the day. Many other designs and symbols appeared inside the circle creating light of its own. The brightness intensified until it created a solid dome with Jaune inside it. It ended as quickly as it began. The writings and symbols were burned into the ground, the stones lay broken in half, and the last Huntsman of Beacon disappeared.  
“May fortune favor the foolish.” Gandalf murmured.


End file.
